Dead Hunt

CHAPTER 2 – Road Trip

“Whose van?” Lucy asked as she threw her duffel bags into the blue Chevy.

“My sponsor family said I could borrow it so we could come support our school. Team spirit and all,” Wade smirked.

Lauren spoke up. “Team spirit hell, you came here to see tits and ass.”

“Really? I didn’t even notice,” Wade’s smile broadened. “There were Sheilas there?”

“You didn’t notice?” Emma laughed. “Than why were you tripping over your own tongues? The three of you looked like a pack of dogs in heat.”

They all laughed.

“So, why are you driving?” Lucy asked Paul as he slid behind the wheel.

“He drove up, I’m driving back. Hey, Emma,” Paul snickered, turning his head to the back seats, “what does a blonde say after sex?”

“What?” Emma asked, never knowing what lame blonde joke Paul was going to come up with next.

“You guys all play on the same team?” Paul laughed.

All three girls groaned and rolled their eyes.

“Speaking of playing on the same team,” Lauren announced excitedly, “did you hear the latest about that slut, Kelly Gets?”

“What’s your beef with her anyway?” Emma asked. “And why does everyone call her Kelly Gets? Her name is Kelly Peterson!”

“Oh, my God, Emma, I can’t believe you’re that naive,” Lauren answered.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Gets, as in every boy ‘gets’ whatever he wants,” Lucy explained.

“Really?” Emma’s eyes opened wide in shocked disbelief.

“I heard she took on the whole football team,” Lauren said with more than a hint of disgust in her voice. Lucy shot a dirty look to Paul.

“I never touched her,” Paul said defensively. “I wouldn’t fuck that skank with Mikey’s dick.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” Michael answered. Everyone laughed.

“Well, most of the team. Same diff,” Lauren added.

“Why would she do that?” Emma asked. “It’s not like she’s ugly and couldn’t get a boy to notice her.”

“My dear little Emma,” Lauren laughed, “it has nothing to do with getting boys to notice her. Kelly Gets is just a slut, plain and simple. And apparently, it takes a football team to satisfy her.”

“Wow,” Emma was confused, “if she’s that easy, why would boys even have anything to do with her? Aren’t they worried about STDs?”

Lauren placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder and explained, “Because men are pigs, sweetie. They can only think with one head at a time, and the little one is the one they usually think with. They will stick it in anything that opens their legs for them.”

“Not everyone,” Michael corrected her.

“Bullshit,” Lauren argued. “You’re all alike. You’d screw a hole in a tree stump if you needed to get your rocks off.”

“Wait a second,” Paul interrupted, “how did the conversation turn from Kelly Gets to Male Bashing 101?”

“She didn’t have sex with herself,” Lauren rolled her eyes. “And, as much as I hate that bitch, the team is just as pathetic as she is.”

“It wasn’t the whole team; it was, like, three guys,” Paul corrected her.

“Like that makes a difference,” Lauren laughed sarcastically.

“And you know this how?” Lucy asked Paul.

“I was there,” Paul replied as Lucy stared at him with insinuating eyes. “And I didn’t touch her! Can we please change the subject?”

“Good idea,” Wade agreed as he popped in a CD and cranked the volume.

The sounds of deep hip-hop bass lines rattled the van’s tiny speakers, drowning out any possibility of further conversation.

Several hours later they were crossing the Canso Causeway from mainland Nova Scotia to Cape Breton Island. The Causeway was 4,500 feet long and the only road on and off the island.

The rest of the trip continued to be rather uneventful as song after song pounded the speakers. Paul tried a few more blonde jokes but couldn’t get any more of a response than the girls rolling their eyes. Wade laughed at a few. Michael barely smiled.

The girls were exhausted from the competition and the long drive. Lauren and Emma couldn’t keep their eyes open despite the loud music. The teens drove through the Whycocomaugh Reservation and then through the village of Baddeck.

“What the hell kinda language is that?” Wade asked, pointing at the huge sign as they approached the turn to St. Anne’s.

“Gaelic,” Emma answered.

“What does is it say?” he asked.

“One hundred thousand welcomes,” she announced

“I can read that,” Wade laughed as he pointed to the English version printed below the Gaelic one. “I meant how do you say it in Gaelic?”

“Caid Mille Failte,” Emma explained without giving it a second thought.

“You’re pretty smart for a dumb blonde,” Wade laughed jokingly.

“Tapadh leat,” she replied.

“Huh?” Wade asked.

“Thank you,” she explained as she batted her pretty blue eyes.

“She’s pretty damn cute too”, Wade thought as he stared into her captivating baby blue eyes perhaps longer than he should have. He pulled his eyes away from her as they reached the base of Kelly’s Mountain.

At the foot of the mountain was the turn off for the tiny village of Englishtown, home of Giant MacAskill. The three boys had stopped at the museum on the trip up to the competition to see how big this giant really was. They learned the Cape Breton Giant stood seven foot nine and weighed 425 pounds. His shoulders were measured at forty-four inches wide while his hands were eight inches wide and a foot long.

“This guy even makes you look small,” Michael suggested as he snapped a picture of Paul standing next to the life-sized statue. Paul laughed, but when he saw the picture he knew Michael was right; Giant MacAskill did make him look small. The guys wanted to stop again on the way back to show the girls the museum, but a thick fog was rolling in, so they decided to just keep driving before it got worse. As they approached the top of Kelly’s Mountain it got worse, much worse. Visibility was all but gone and the road seemed to literally disappear in front of their eyes.

Paul slowed the van down to a crawl, desperately trying to keep from driving over the side of the steep mountain. He’d heard rumors that the fog on Kelly’s got as thick as pea soup and he now knew exactly what those people had meant. He didn’t even know he was driving off the road until the van scraped against a guard rail, scaring everyone in the van, including him.

“Drive in the middle of the road,” Michael suggested.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Paul snapped back. “I could get creamed by a truck coming the other way, you idiot!”

“Because you’re gonna drive off the mountain if you don’t, moron!” Michael told him, “You can’t see more than a foot in front of the van, so keep the yellow line between the headlights. That way it’s impossible to go off the road.”

“Great idea,” Paul rolled his eyes. “And what happens if one of those big-ass trucks come?”

“You’ll see their headlights. So pull over before you kill us!”

Paul knew it was a good idea. He just hated to admit somebody had a better idea than him, especially Michael.

Paul eased the van over until the yellow line was between his headlights and slowly crept over Kelly’s Mountain. Much to their surprise, and appreciation, not a single vehicle came the other way. As they reached the bottom of the mountain, they literally drove out of the fog as if they’d driven through a wall, but their relief was short lived. At the base of Kelly’s Mountain red and blue flashing lights from a parked police car and a “Bridge Out” sign welcomed the teens.

Normally a bridge out sign was no big deal, but Cape Breton, although called an island, was actually two islands. The Atlantic Ocean ran through each end until they met in the middle at the Bras D’or Lakes, a fresh water lake famed for its sail boating and spectacular views. The combination of fresh and salt water gave the Bras D’or Lakes a unique ecosystem. The Seal Island Bridge was the largest bridge on the Cape Breton and the only way to cross over on this end.

A thick, burly man got out of the police cruiser and eyed the van cautiously as it rolled to a stop. Paul rolled down the tinted window as the cop approached.

“You kids lost?” the cop asked.

Paul motioned his head to the bridge, “What’s the problem?”

The cop looked at Paul for a few seconds before answering, but it was long enough for Paul to notice the cop looked like he was ready to snarl. The cop nodded towards the bridge out sign.

“If you actually knew how to read, what do you think that big sign over there would say?”

“Jesus, man!” Paul responded. “Who pissed in your corn flakes?”

“Listen, smart ass,” the cop growled, “a car filled with partying teenagers tried passing an eighteen wheeler and slammed head-on with an oncoming car. The tanker jackknifed and exploded and a lot of innocent people were killed here, so I’m really not in the mood for your stupid questions because you’re not smart enough to read the signs.”

“Hard to see the signs when the fog is so thick we could barely see the road!” Paul snapped back.

“You’re wearing my patience thin, boy,” the cop sneered. “So turn this rig around and go back to wherever the hell it was you came from.”

Paul, who had little respect for authority figures and even less respect for cops, wasn’t smart enough to be intimidated or quiet.

“No problem, officer. That’s what I’m trying to do: get back to where we came from. Maybe you heard of it. It’s called Glace Bay, and it’s on that side of the bridge,” Paul sarcastically said, pointing across the bridge.

“That’s it!” The cop barked as he reached for the van’s door handle.

Lucy quickly leaned over Paul towards the open window.

“Excuse me, sir,” she flirted in her best sexy voice.

The cop was instantly pacified as his eyes traced the contours of her tight and revealing shirt before looking her in the eye. She had that effect on men, and she used it whenever it was to her advantage. She leaned out the window, crossing her arms so they squeezed her breasts together, enhancing her cleavage.

The cop’s eyes dropped instantly to take in the view.

“Bat your eyelashes, lick your lips, show a little cleavage, and you can have a man eating out of your hand in seconds,” Lucy thought. It was so easy it was almost embarrassing.

“Is there another way over?” she asked in a sultry voice. “We really don’t want to drive all the way back to the causeway and go through St. Peter’s. I'm really tired and I just wanna go to bed.”

The cop swallowed a lump in his throat and forced his eyes away from her cleavage. She licked her lips and smiled seductively.

“Men are pathetically predictable,” she thought.

The cop, his chest now stuck out like an army drill sergeant, tried to compose himself.

“W-w-well,” he cleared his throat and tried again. “When you get to Little Narrows, turn left. There’s a cable ferry that can take you across the channel. It might still be operating. If not, than you kids have no choice but to try St. Peters or find a motel somewhere.”

He stopped, then looked at the other girls.

“I suggest you girls phone your parents and let them know where you are at,” he looked a Paul, “and who you are with. They might want to rent a helicopter to come get you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Paul blurted.

“Shut up, Paul,” Lucy hissed as she elbowed him.

“Yeah, Paul,” the cop said matter-of-factly. “That's good advice. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than throwing your sarcastic ass in jail. But the jail is on that side of the bridge, and I don’t feel like babysitting you all night. So turn this rig around and get going before I change my mind."

“Thank you, officer,” Lucy winked as she crawled back into the van.

Paul dropped the van in reverse and eased it around. Without warning, he floored the accelerator, throwing everyone in the van forward and spraying dirt at the cop.

“I hate that kid!” the cop grumbled as he brushed off his uniform.

“You’re an asshole!” Lucy yelled as she picked herself up off the van floor and slapped the back of Paul’s head.

“Oh, my god, you are such a flirt!” Lauren laughed at Lucy.

“It got us directions didn’t it?” Lucy replied with a smile. “And it kept big mouth here out of jail. Paul, you really should learn when to shut the hell up.”

“He started it!” Paul snapped.

“He started it!” Lucy repeated mockingly. “You can be such a child sometimes.”

Lucy turned to take her seat and noticed Lauren had moved up and sat next to Emma. Lucy stared at the empty seat next to Michael. Lauren just smiled, but Lucy shot her a dirty look. Lucy took the seat next to Michael. Michael smiled briefly but said nothing.

“Whatever you do,” Lucy silently ordered Michael, “don’t stare at me, and please don’t do something stupid like look down the front of my shirt or Paul will freak. I’m going to kill Lauren, she knows better.”

A few seconds later, as if Michael heard her silent plea, he turned his head away and stared out the window.

“Thank you,” Lucy thought as she looked to the front of the van just in time for Paul to look in the rearview mirror. His eyes narrowed accusingly when he saw her sitting next to Michael, but as the van drove back through the wall of fog, his focus went back to the task at hand. They all looked straight ahead as if everyone’s eyes were needed to navigate. With the yellow line between the headlights, the van crawled back up and over Kelly’s Mountain.

“Why don’t we just go to Margaree?” Lucy suggested when the van broke free of the terrifying fog.

“That’s a great idea,” Emma chimed in.

“My parents have a cabin in Margaree Valley.” Lucy continued, “We could go there for the night instead of driving the long way around.”

“A cabin in the woods with three girls. Works for me,” Paul joked.

“And we can call our parents,” Emma added, “in case they want to rent a helicopter.”

The van filled with laughter.

“Hey, Emma,” Paul smiled, “what do you get when a blonde dyes her hair brown?”

“I don’t know,” she answered.

“Artificial Intelligence!” Paul roared as Emma rolled her eyes.

“When you pass Baddeck,” Lucy told Paul, ignoring his lame joke, “turn right at the Red Barn. You can’t miss it. Then just follow the signs.”

As the trip wore on, one by one the tired teens fell asleep. Lucy had to make sure she leaned far away from Michael. If she accidentally leaned on Michael, or he on her, poor Michael would probably not wake up because Paul would kill him while he slept.

“I don’t know why he gets so jealous.” Lucy thought, “It’s not like I ever gave him a reason to be jealous. It’s Michael for crying out loud.”

Paul turned at the Red Barn Gift Shop and Restaurant and navigated the winding and steep roads of Hunter’s Mountain.

Two hours later, the van jolted to a stop, startling everyone awake.

“Where are we?” Michael asked.

“Beats the hell outta me,” Paul answered.

“Huh?” Lucy mumbled, trying to wipe the sleep out of her eyes.

“There’s the ocean on our left, so we must be getting close,” Paul suggested.

“Ocean?” Lucy repeated, stumbling to the front of the van to get a better look.

“Paul, you idiot!” She slapped the back of his head. “We’re in Cheticamp!”

“Cheti-who?” Paul asked.

“Cheticamp, you moron, you drove past the turn off. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You said to turn at the red barn and keep going,” Paul argued.

“I said to follow the signs,” Lucy snapped back. “Think about it dumb-dumb: Margaree Valley. A valley means between mountains, not next to the ocean.”

Lucy looked around and saw a field of stick figures dressed in clothes and Halloween masks.

Lucy pointed to the figures, “Joe’s Scarecrows.”

“Joe’s what?” Lauren asked.

“I remember those,” Emma told them. “I was here with my parents a few years ago. The whole field is a bunch of scarecrows dressed up with cute little nametags and stuff. The restaurant over there has great cheeseburgers.”

“Oh, my god, Emma!” Lauren shook her head. “Do you think about anything other than food?”

“But I’m hungry,” Emma tried to explain.

“You’re always hungry,” Lauren told her. “For how much you eat you should weigh like five hundred pounds.”

“Part of her already does,” Paul laughed.

“Ha, ha,” Emma said dryly. “Like I never heard that one before. That’s about as original as calling someone with glasses four-eyes.” As soon as Emma said it she lowered her gaze to the floor.

“Now that was fuckin’ funny!” Paul roared.

Michael smiled as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose.

“Sorry,” Emma murmured to Michael, embarrassed.

“Actually,” Michael told her, “it was kinda funny.”

They all smiled.

“Well, at least he didn’t keep going,” Lucy informed everyone. “Just up ahead is Cheticamp. As soon as you go through Cheticamp, the road leads into Highland Park. If dumb-dumb here of had kept going we would have went all through the Highlands, up along the coast by Meat Cove, down through Neil’s Harbour and back down to Baddeck. We would have ended up exactly where we started!”

“So, how far is Margaree from here?” Michael asked.

“Ummm, it’s about thirty minutes, I think,” Lucy answered then looked at Paul. “In the other direction. That cop was right, you can’t read signs.”

“I’ll drive for awhile, Mate,” Wade volunteered.

“I can read the signs,” Paul argued defensively.

“No worries,” Wade reassured him, “you look stuffed.”

“I look what?”

Wade laughed. “Tired, Mate. You look tired. I’ll drive for a spell and you rest.”

They switched seats and Wade turned the van around and headed back the way they came.